Don't Let it Go to Your Head
by Sexy Bookworm
Summary: Rachel may have been valedictorian, but she has no common sense. You would't think she would last an hour on the wrong side of town- good thing she has a knight in shining grease... "Oh, and then my car caught on fire. This is my life."
1. Prolouge

Note: Because as I have been attacking The Outsiders fandom, I have noticed a lack of Soda pairings. Sandy is in Florida, kids. Let's have some fun!

_"Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start..." _

If there was a contest to see who did the most stupid things, I would win. You think I'm kidding- yeah, no. I may have been my school's valedictorian, but when it comes to real life, I haven't a clue.

This is why I'm currently stranded on the side of the road in Tulsa, Oklahoma. See, a full ride to the University of Oklahoma does not guarantee a place to stay during the summer. And after a bitter argument with my parents last break I was not willing to go back home…not to mention him. But anyway, since I have about as much common sense as a dead horse I left college after my last exam with no plan of action.

I figured that I would break down (done) and call my best friend and roommate (Lauren) to come get me, and spend the summer at her house. Except…I'm in a sketchy part of town and have no idea where a payphone is. Not to mention the fact that it's getting dark. Was that a gun shot? Dorothy, we aren't in Kansas anymore!

Sighing, I get out of my rusty red ford and resign to my fate. Despite the fact that I have no idea what I'm doing- my plan is to fix my car and get on my way. I square my shoulders and pull my white sweater tighter around me. Off in the distance, a cat meows, and I nearly have a heart attack. When you are five feet and about one hundred and ten pounds you cannot protect yourself in most violent situations. Therefore, your best bet is to run. Too bad I couldn't make it two feet without face planting. Using all my might, I pry open the hood of my truck, only to be met with a face full of smoke.

"Honey, I would step away from your car if I were you. Smoke usually isn't a good sign," a voice behind me suddenly says, as I throw myself on the ground. "OH GOD! Don't shoot! Just let me go, ok? I look like I'm seven! I WILL HAUNT YOUR DREAMS! Here, I have some money! I also have a bank account. Just, just leave me alone!"

As I finish my tirade, I am met with hysterical laughter. Let me tell you, robbers seem a lot less scary when they _laugh_.

"Lady, look, we're not gonna hurt you. We just saw you struggling, that's all. Soda wanted to help," says a new voice, another man, who sounds a little gruffer than the last one. Slowly, I open my eyes, and an incredibly attractive yet sketchy boy is holding his hand out to me. Well, they might kidnap me; but I wouldn't mind falling in love with this kidnapper. Insert girly fantasy here! What? I was valedictorian. It's not like I had a life. Hesitantly I take his hand and he hauls me to my feet. They are both men, as well as significantly taller than me. Attractive yet rough around the edges, I had a hard time finding distinct differences in them. Except that one seemed to glow with happiness while the other was rather surly.

"Why don't we just exchange names, alright? I'm Sodapop- go ahead, laugh- and this is Steve. Now what's a nice girl like you doing on this side of town?"

I may have been a poor judge of character, but I was instantly charmed by Soda. Giggling simply due to how taken I was with him, I reply, "My name is Rachel Avery. And I'm…not sure exactly. I'm not much of a planner."

"What a coincidence! Neither am I," says Soda, flashing a movie star smile. Briefly I picture our whole life together, until Steve coughs awkwardly.

"Oh, well," I said, wishing away the faint blush that I knew was rising to my cheeks, "I just finished up college. Going home…wasn't an option, so I decided to head out into the world on my own, which is easier said than done."

"Ah, a college girl! Come on, Steve. Let's take a look at her car," Soda replies as I step aside, allowing him to inspect my smoky engine. Steve gives me a look I can't interpret and follows suit.

"Jesus, when was the last time you had any work done on this?" Steve asks, with a bite to his voice. I guess Soda makes up for Steve's total lack of people skills. Not that I'm one to be judging people skills…In reply to his question, I scratch my back and attempt to mumble into my hand "never," but they manage to hear me. Dubious, they look at each other, then back at the engine, and back to me. Are you supposed to get cars serviced? They never taught me this in advanced chemistry!

"I'd hate to tell you this, sweetie, but your car isn't an easy fix. I can't really dig in and find the problem. Still, anything smoking that much-"

Oh, and then my car caught on fire. This is my life.

"FIRE!" I scream, as I rush to my car and grab a bottle of water. I open it, prepared to throw it on the fire, when Soda grabs my hand.

"You never put water on a grease fire! Didn't anyone ever tell-"

"ADVANCED CHEMISTRY DOES NOTHING!" I shriek, as I resort to using Soda as a shield. Rolling his eyes, Steve asks if I have a fire extinguisher.

Ha, I have everything in my car! Nodding, I trot back over to my passenger side door, and produce one from the back. I hand it to Steve, who makes good use of it, and the fire is out in seconds.

Soda then turns to me and says, "Ok Miss. Rachel. We're going to have to deal with your…little car problem tomorrow. I guess you have luck on your side, because Steve and I work at a garage."

Steve snorts, and then replies, "If she had luck, it wouldn't have caught on fire in the _first_ place." In response, Soda gives him a glance which I think is intended to shut him up.

"If you'd like, Steve and I are headed back to my house. We have a phone, if you'd like to call somebody. Or I'm sure Darry will let you stay the night. Come on, it's not safe for you to wander round' here."

There is a part of me saying that going off with strange men is a bad idea. Eh, the part that says do it is bigger. They seem like perfectly nice young men!

"Ok, I think I can handle that. Thank you kindly," I say, with my biggest smile. If that doesn't win them over, I'm sure the painfully straight chestnut hair, giant brown eyes, and freckles will. Perks to looking like a five year old: people do whatever you want, and tend to adore you instantly. This is what is running through my head, as I follow Soda and Steve down the street.


	2. In my Life

Note: Here it is, chapter two! Thanks for all the wonderful feedback for the first! I only have two more days of high school, then updates will come quick!

_ "How strange, this feeling that my life's begun, at last! This change...can people really fall in love so fast?"_

I don't know about you, but in my house, when I bring strangers to dinner, I don't announce that I found them on the side of the road. Then again, I am considered clueless. Still, I am able to understand the, "don't pick up strangers off the side of the road," rule.

Whatever, I'm just glad that Sodapop Curtis doesn't understand this rule. And this is all I can think about as I sit on the Curtis' sofa observing the chaos going on all around me. Within the ten minutes I have been here, I have met three new people (Darry, Two-Bit, and Ponyboy), been hit by four flying objects, and heard five new insults. Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore!

"This oven is going to go soon," I hear Darry grumble from the kitchen, as he struggles to make a casserole, that to my understanding, is composed of leftovers from their fridge. Ponyboy makes some snide remark back as Two-Bit continues to converse with me.

"So are you actually ten? Because girlie, those freckles are kind of sexy," He asks me, with a tone that _clearly_ says he thinks he's funny.

Smiling brightly, I reply with, "No, I'm eighteen. Just finished up my freshman year at The University of Oklahoma..." I then drift off, as I struggle to see what book Ponyboy is reading while returning to the room. Reading and walking? This boy and I are going to get along just fine.

"_Pride and Prejudice_?" I squeal, pleased, although curious as to why a boy is reading it. Ponyboy rolls his eyes and replies, "Yeah, I was supposed to have read it months ago. But I didn't, and my final is tomorrow."

"Well, my dear, your brother picked the right girl up off the side of the road. Not only am I an English Language and Literature major, but I have been a _Pride and Prejudice_ obsessor since I was thirteen,"I ramble while simultaneously swiping Ponyboy's beat up copy from his hands. "All you need to know is that Lizzie Bennet is the perfect woman-"

"Is she hot?" Asks Two-Bit. I respond with a glare, "And that Mr. Darcy is the perfect man."

"If it was that simple, I don't think Ponyboy would be studying it," shouts Soda from what I think is the bathroom, but I'm not about to go look. Because I might, you know, see something (that I want to see but isn't socially acceptable to want to see).

"And what do you know about literature, buddy?" Questions Steve, who flopped onto the floor at my feet when we got here, and hasn't moved. I think he likes me. Then again, I can't really tell. The two then proceed to get into a screaming match that starts out about Soda's knowledge of literature, and ends with Mickey Mouse. While they're arguing, Ponyboy gently takes the book back, and attempts to skim it. Feeling like I should be a good guest, I mosey over to Darry in the tiny kitchen and ask if I can help with anything. Instead of answering my question, he grabs my arm, and announces to the room, "See? This is what a polite person looks like!"

"And that's why we should keep her!" Inserts Soda. He then waltzes into the kitchen...in nothing but a towel. As a hormonal teenage girl, I am attracted to just about everyone. But with Soda, it's more than just a flicker of lust. It's a freaking _flame_.

"Soda, go put some clothes on. And I'm sure Rachel has better places to stay than in a too-small house with a bunch of greases."

"Actually," I inject, my eyes never leaving Soda's retreating behind, "I can't go back to my dorm room until the first week of September. Home...just isn't an option."

The comment about my home comes out harsher than I intended and the room gets quiet. Let them think whatever they want; it cannot be worse than the reality. Darry clears his throat, and then simply says, "We'll see." He isn't gruff exactly...Darry just seems to have all the seriousness that Soda doesn't. Pony just seems to be in another world altogether. A timer goes off, and Darry takes the leftover-fresh-casserole out of the oven (I'm going to think of a better name for that).

Soda walks in and stares at it, "Well, I think there's some chocolate cake left." Muttering, Darry serves the casserole onto some plates. Everyone grabs one and promptly starts eating. There is no organization to dinner. Instead it is like the moment when your family is running out the door to leave for a trip. Everyone is moving, rushing, yelling, and you can't keep track of anyone. I like this loud and blusterous affair, though. The only person trying to keep things in check is Darry. Steve, meanwhile, is harassing him for just about everything. Eventually Steve fires a piece of casserole al a unknown at Darry, only to miss and hit me. Oh, it's on boy. You mess with the valedictorian, you get the intelligent insults.

"You know," I say casually, as I pick at my casserole (which no, is not surprising good, it tastes awful), "I think you have penis envy."

Then it was even quieter than when I said my home life was shit. After a good thirty seconds of silence, a mortified Steve stutters out, "P-p-penis envy?" Smirking, I reply, "Yeah, it's a Freudian thing. Darry's penis is bigger than yours. Therefore, you envy him, causing you to treat him poorly."

Ok, maybe I'm simplifying it, but it's for a good cause. Before a blustering Steve can get a word in edgewise, Darry says, "Sodapop, I think we can keep her. I like this one."

"Well I would hope so, she just complimented your-"

"Don't push it, little brother," Darry growls, shoving another bite of mystery casserole in his mouth. After Darry struggles to swallow it Soda wordlessly walks to the fridge and pulls out the most perfect chocolate cake I have ever seen. Seriously, you could ice skate on that icing, it's so smooth. Even Darry doesn't protest when Soda doles out pieces.

"Does that mean the sofa isn't mine anymore?" Steve asks, and I briefly consider saying that since his penis is so small we could both fit, but I figure I've tortured these boys enough for one night. I can't operate kitchen appliances, but when it comes to using my socially useless knowledge, I'm an expert.

"I know Evie isn't the classiest broad, but for once let the nice young lady have the sofa," Two-Bit calls from his position in front of the TV. I have never seen someone so enthralled by a cartoon before, not even the five year old I used to babysit...

"Rachel is getting the sofa, at least until her car is up and running," Darry replies and then I add, "and not on fire."

I finish my cake and rinse off the dishes. I take Pony's too, since he is finished, and is too busy reading to notice anything. As I take Soda's, he says to Darry, "Look! She's earning her keep! Maybe the house won't be so scary anymore. We won't have to fear the social workers."

"You fear social workers?" I ask, as I scrub a plate viciously, "I fear strangers, shots, doctors, dentists, jails, spandex, dresses, my mother..."

With the looks I got, you would have thought they had never came across a socially awkward girl before. Then again, this is Tulsa. Maybe there aren't any.

"Anyways, that's fine, Rachel. Thanks for cleaning the dishes," Darry quickly says, but I can tell he is being sincere. I finish up, and join the rest of the boys to where they have relocated in front of the television.

"I'm going to go job hunting tomorrow anyways, Darry. Getting the truck fixed will cost quite a bit, I'm sure. That's what I get for being so susceptible to car salesmen," I explain, as I sit cross legged next to Two-Bit.

"Why do you talk like you're ninety?" Steve asks with a sneer.

"Why are you such a pretentious ass?" I follow with, "Besides, my _copious _amount of knowledge is going to come in handy. Pony, put that book down. You'll never finish it. I'm teaching you _Pride and Prejudice. _Anybody want to be Darcy?"

Soda chuckles, a sound that reminds me of summer, and agrees, "Sure, but as long as you let me take you out tomorrow. I want to teach you some street smarts."

Darry gives Soda a look that clearly says he doesn't think it's a good idea. And while Darry may be his big brother, he isn't mine, so I say, "Sure, street smarts are definitely something I need to work on. If it was a class, I'd fail, and it would bring down my GPA. Now, Soda, how good is your British accent?"

It ended up being incredibly awful, but everything that came out of his mouth still sounded wonderful.


	3. Some Nights

Note: I'm not too pleased with this one. To be honest, it's just a filler, with lots of subtle foreshadowing.

_"What are we waiting for? Why don't we break the rules already?"_

I was dreaming about something nice (or maybe it was something with a bad British accent), when I was rudely awakened by a foot in my face. Yes, you read that correctly. Foot meet face!

"For God's sake," I mutter, as I shove the incredibly white foot out of my face. Then, all the wind was knocked out of me.

"WAKE UP SUNSHINE! IT'S MORNING!" Two-Bit shrieked, as he proceeded to bounce up and down on me. This boy has known me for less than a day, and he thinks he can use me as a trampoline?

"Two-Bit, I told you, Rachel can sleep as late as she wants. You're the one that has somewhere to be. Work," Darry yelled from the kitchen, where I assumed he was making breakfast.

Last night I found out that Two-Bit worked at some hippie restaurant for a free-spirited woman. And by free-spirited, I mean that she found hangovers to be an acceptable excuse for not coming to work.

"Hey, she said she wanted to go job hunting, figured I'd give her a hand-"

"INCOMING!"

Suddenly, I was soaked, from a stray water balloon. Though it did cause Two-Bit to get off me. As he stumbled to his feet, I threw the now wet afghan off, and sat up. I had went to bed after giving Ponyboy the most hysterical (and slightly exaggerated) summary of _Pride and Prejudice _ever (I mean, I had Two-Bit be Mr. Collins, Steve Charlotte, Darry Mr. Bingley, and Ponyboy Jane. It doesn't get any crazier than that).

Anyway, after our performance, I crashed on the soda. Which brings us to now; Two-Bit rudely awakening me and Steve throwing water balloons.

"Steve! I _swear _if you weren't Soda's best friend-"

"Aw, guys! Come on, it's too early for that," exclaimed Soda as he strolled into the room. Clad in his DX uniform, he looked quite suave. And at the sight of his puppy dog eyes, even Darry let his lecture trail off; he just mumbled under his breath and violently cooked the eggs. If he wasn't planning on scrambling them, they were after that. I then turned my attention back to Two-Bit.

"It's ok, Two-Bit, I think job hunting is the kind of thing you do by yourself."

"Only if you're boring-"

"Don't listen to him!" Darry interjected, "You job hunt by yourself. Try the nursing home down the street- they're always hiring."

I thanked Darry for his tip, and decided to take the bathroom while it was open. I rushed in (forgetting to grab my suitcase of clothing) and showered quickly. By then Ponyboy was banging on the door and shrieking about how I was going to make him late, while Darry yelled twice as loud back that he was the one who overslept. Feeling bad for hogging the bathroom I wrapped myself in a towel and sprinted out the door. My hope was that I could snatch my suitcase out of the living room and escape to a bedroom before anyone noticed my lack of clothing.

If only I was actually lucky. I grabbed my suitcase, but while making a run for Ponyboy and Soda's room, I ran directly into Soda. It wasn't in slow motion or how they describe it in cheesy romance novels. Instead it hurt. _Bad. _Since Soda was bigger, and therefore had more momentum, he ended up on top of me. My tailbone hit first and I honestly thought it was broken. Unfocused due to the pain, I couldn't care less about the boy on top of me, who was struggling to get to his feet. Only when Soda got up and stared at me in shock did I realize my towel had flew open.

Quickly, I wrapped it back around myself, scurried into the room, and locked the door. Great way to start the day.

* * *

Despite the rocky start job hunting went well. The nursing home hired me on the spot. Something about how I was the valedictorian and that being good enough for them. Set to start training the next day I returned back to the Curtis house feeling accomplished. So in my black pencil skirt, blue satin blouse, and killer heels, I started dinner (macaroni and cheese is something even I can cook).Then I sat out on the porch with a tall glass of water and buried myself in some Nathaniel Hawthorne. Time passed quickly, and before I knew it Soda was bounding up the front lawn.

But the moment he notices me he turns bashful due to our little...collision this morning. I too, remember, and turn a deep shade of scarlet. Ironic, considering I'm reading _The Scarlet Letter_.

"You look nice, Rachel. Real pretty," he drawls, adorably awkward. And then I put my foot in my mouth.

"You're probably just happy I'm not naked. Again," I stammer out. After that. I assumed Soda would get angry, or walk away rolling is eyes. Instead he starts laughing.

"To be honest, I'm just glad you're not mad. I was afraid you'd think I did it on purpose or somethin'."

I regard him with a look of confusion, and say, "Why would I think that? It was my fault for being such an idiot. Never thinking..."

Soda smiles softly, leans against the porch railing (with questionable strength), and replies, "Hon, most people think I'm out to steal everything they own. We're greasers. Wrong side of the tracks. It's kind of nice that you don't think about it. Now, what's for dinner?"

And then we went inside and enjoyed (slightly) burnt macaroni and cheese.

* * *

Later that night, around eight thirty, Soda tells me to go change into something fun because we're going out. Darry has already fallen asleep on the sofa, so we are met with little resistance. Tip toeing around the house, Soda, Two-Bit, Steve and I get ready. Pony has one more exam tomorrow, math, and while he isn't in as much trouble as he was with English the night before, he needs to study. I'm dressed in a simple pair of jean shorts and a tank top- nothing fancy. In fact, it takes the boys longer to "prepare" themselves. While I'm waiting, Pony gives me a brief crash course in not getting myself arrested.

"If it's your first time drinking, be careful. Not only is your body not used to alcohol, but you're small like me. It's gonna go straight to your head. I suggest you don't drink on your first night out on the town. But if you do, always finish the whole shot, never accept drinks from strangers, and stay close to someone you trust," Pony lectures, and I understand now why Darry occasionally teases him about being a teacher.

"Now, the cops. Avoid them. The end. Cops bring social workers, and social workers are the scariest thing. Even worse than the devil."

I raise my hand, and then eagerly ask, "Even worse than reading Steinbeck?"

"Even worse," Pony replies, as he nods 's then that the other boys are ready. Quietly, we slip out the door, waving goodbye to Pony. We pile into Darry's old truck and head to a place called Buck's. These three boys are the definition of excitement; they fill the car with shouts and swear words, which is enough to get my nerdy adrenaline pumping. Since I've never partied before (being the valedictorian and all) this all seems surreal and incredibly daring. Inside Bucks, liquor and scantily clad women are in abundance. Needless to say, I feel incredibly inadequate. Because even oblivious little me can't miss the amount of skin they're showing.

Soon, everybody has abandoned me for the aforementioned things that are in abundance. It's then I notice something from my world; blackjack. Which, really, is just a math problem, all probability. I sit down at the table next to a boy about Pony's age, with unruly hair, who is talking with a boy that looks like he belongs in my nightmares. Pulling some money out of my pocket, I ask to be dealt in. Everyone chuckles, except scary boy, who silently complies with my request.

An hour later, only myself and scary boy are left. Who, is apparently named Tim Shepard. When his brother, Curly, got out, he threw such a fuss that everyone came running. So now, we have an audience. Steve and Two-Bit are absent, though Soda watches me carefully, ready to jump in if needed. I can't blame him for being cautious. Tim Shepard is scary, plus I'm socially stupid, and there is money on the line. Still, he allows the game to go on; the native verses the newcomer. Eventually, math beats luck, and I win. My opponent stands and shakes my hand.

"Good game, little girl. Normally, I'd be pissed, but you're too innocent to cheat."

I laugh whole heartedly and agree, "It's true. I have to admit though, I have a trick up my sleeve. It's all math."

Tim raises an eyebrow, and says, "Math. I respect your method. Hey, we play a game of poker here every Friday night. You any good at that?"

I shake my head and reply, "I'm ok. That's less math, more luck."

"Well," he says, "If you ever wanna play, just drop by. I can respect someone who knows their cards. Buy you a drink?" He asks, his face giving nothing away. For all I know, he could view me as an extra little sister, or someone he wants to get naked. Before I can answer Soda interrupts, "Thanks, but no thanks. That's my job tonight, Shepard." He places a protective hand on my arm and I struggle to keep from staring at it. Shepard just nods his head knowingly, and reminds me of the poker game before swaggering off.

"Shepard, hard to make angry. But when you do, run for the hills. He's one terrifying hood."

I'm not sure if I should be flattered or offended that "one terrifying hood" has taken an interest in me. Then, Soda says, "But if you'd like a drink, come on, I'll buy you one." I want to decline his offer, really, I do, but his eyes are just so pretty and I'm kind of thirsty so- "Yeah, I'd like that."

One turns into two, which turns into three, which turns into six, and next thing you know I'm pretending my hand is a spider and that it's crawling up Soda's arm.

"Ohhh! Look! Is it a spider, or is it my hand?" I slur, then burst into a fit of giggles. I'm only half sitting at this point. Mostly, I'm leaning on Soda, who is sober. He is gently playing with my hair as I ramble and rave. It's late, around one thirty, and I think he's ready to go home. Steve then walks up to us, with a girl much prettier than I on his arm. She's all sparkly makeup and little clothing, with lovely brown hair and no freckles. In my drunken haze, I decide to give Steve a hug. This, is a bad idea.

"Steveeeee! I missed you!" I shout as I slip off the barstool and stumble over to him. I throw my arms around his middle, and he makes a strangled noise. Soda is chuckling to my left, but the girl, on the other hand, is not pleased.

"Steve! You're cheating on me with this broad? Is she even of age?" Shrieks the girl, as she furiously waves her hands. I have since let go of Steve and plopped on the floor. I watch, mesmerized, as she berates Steve. I'm pretty sure no woman has been jealous of me in the history of forever. Finally, pretty girl finishes her tirade. For a grand finale she slaps Steve across the face and leaves, slamming the door behind her. It's silent for a few moments. But then Steve simply shrugs, as if this is a daily occurrence. Then, as if nothing happened, Soda asks, "Where's Two-Bit?"

"Passed out in the parking lot. Something about vodka and squirrels, I didn't catch much. Guy can't even walk, let alone form coherent sentences."

I think they talk a bit more, and have a conversation with the surly bartender about drunken animals, but I'm not sure. Everything is fuzzy around the edges... kind of like tooth plaque.

I guess my similes go to hell when I'm drunk. Anyway, after a while, Soda scoops me up and carries me to the car. I catch bits and pieces of conversation.

"So I'm stuck carrying Two-Bit? Man, how come you get the girl?"

"Because I'm the one who made sure Shepard didn't kill her tonight. Have fun!"

"Come on, Two-Bit, you can walk. Just bend knee, lift foot!"

"Dude. He isn't even conscious."

"Then put Rachel in the truck, get over here, grab his arms, and I'll get his feet."

To be honest, I'm in and out of sleep until we get back to the house. Soda sits me on the sofa, telling me to hold on a second, don't fall asleep, he has to help Steve carry Two-Bit. Before he even turns around to leave, though, Steve drags Two-Bit in. By the hair.

"Aw, Steve!" Scolds Soda, as Steve leaves Two-Bit in the middle of the floor and goes into the kitchen.

"What? He's so drunk, nothing hurts!"

Soda just shakes his head, and follows Steve into the kitchen. He comes back with water and aspirin. I accept both objects, and consume them quickly. Steve has passed out on the kitchen floor (that boy is no different when drunk than sober), so it's just Soda and I.

"So, how was your first time getting drunk?" He asks as he once again plays with my hair

"Well, it's ok. Other than being the cause of Steve getting slapped, it was pretty good. Mmmm. I still prefer books. I wonder if Steinbeck is better when drunk?"

Soda chuckles, and gets to his feet, "Don't worry about Evie. She's a good broad, all things considered, but she gets jealous easy. Hopefully she'll forget about it. Maybe. Well, one enemy in this town isn't bad. Now, no books for you, Rachel. Time for bed. Don't you work tomorrow?"

"Not until one. Please and thank you," I reply while my eyes fall shut and he drapes a blanket over me. As he walks away he ruffles my hair, but all I can think is I'm extremely pleased I don't work until one.


End file.
